Somewhere With You
by calacira11
Summary: Hermione catches Draco wandering around Muggle London shortly before their Sixth year. Though he is reluctant to discuss his activities, her curiosity drives her to try to discover just what her oldest adversary is up to. OoP Compliant.
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere with you 5

Chapter 1

Hermione shoved her volunteer uniform into her messenger bag and hurriedly threw on the jean shorts and t-shirt she had packed to change into after her shift. If she didn't rush, she was going to be late for her History class. Glancing in the mirror on her way out of the locker room, she grimaced at her slightly disheveled appearance. Summer as always had tanned her skin and dusted her nose with light freckles, but her carefully applied eye makeup had mostly worn off after a day cleaning kennels and walking dogs. Her chestnut brown hair was escaping its bun in wispy tendrils. She hated only having half an hour between her volunteer post at the Humane Society and her evening class at the local community college, but it was simply the only way she could fit both into her schedule. No doubt the smell of cat litter followed her like a cloud. The rest of the class was probably grateful she only ever arrived in time to find a seat in the back of the room. However, she couldn't just abandon her volunteer work due to this small inconvenience. Her work with S.P.E.W. being somewhat curtailed during the summer holiday, she had gone to the next best Muggle option. So many animals were being mistreated right in her own backyard! While the letter writing campaign for S.P.E.W. had been a minor success, generating nearly five Galleons in funds to promote the freeing of the unfortunate house elves, Hermione had to admit that caring for abused or abandoned animals was slightly more gratifying. At least dogs wagged their tails and looked at you with loving eyes. Most house elves were too brain washed to see the injustice of their situation. Hermione was confident that one day she would make them see reason, but she was less confident that that day would occur before her fiftieth birthday.

Rummaging in her bag for her keys, Hermione quickly walked down the sidewalk to where her bicycle was chained in the alley. Her hand brushed her wand, and she was struck with a sudden wave of longing for Hogwarts and her friends. Though she would be back in the Great Hall watching the Sorting soon enough, she still missed the feeling of belonging the wizarding community afforded her. Though she kept busy with Muggle schooling and her volunteer work during the summer break, she couldn't help but wish it was September. She had been raised in the Muggle world, but after discovering she was a witch at the age of eleven, she never again felt truly comfortable. Pretending to be that Granger girl, who attended the elite Scottish boarding school and spent her summers at home buried in more studies, wore on her nerves. Sometimes she caught herself pitying her parents and their friends, with their washing machines and motor vehicles. She was privileged to be able to perform a simple drying charm, and soon she would be allowed to Apparate as well. Living as a Muggle was tiresome after experiencing all the possibilities of a world with magic. Shaking her head, she admonished herself for such thoughts. Muggles were ingenious in contriving to live without the benefits of magic, and all these feelings of privilege and importance were precisely the sort of thing she abhorred about some in the Wizarding world.

Weaving her way through the pedestrian traffic, Hermione glanced at her wristwatch. She would just barely make it to her class on time. Though her education at Hogwarts was all she would need to find a good job in the Wizarding world, Hermione felt a Muggle education was an important thing to have as well. One just never knew what skills would be necessary in the coming years. Many Muggleborn students also took summer classes, mostly to please parents still uncertain about the type of future a Hogwarts education offered. Most considered it an inconvenience to their summer holiday, but Hermione relished the chance to learn more about the world she was born into. After all, it was part of who she was. Some classes, such as Chemistry, reminded her of Potions. And Western Civilization was made all the more fascinating after her years of History of Magic to explain away some of the trickier aspects of Muggle history. For instance, had Elizabeth I's most devoted servant William Cecil not been a wizard, the fate of the Spanish Armada and England might have been very different. Walking briskly down the sidewalk towards the school, she caught sight of a familiar flash of silvery blonde hair. She stopped dead in her tracks. There were only two people she knew of with hair that shade, and one of them was currently imprisoned in Azkaban. Could it be Draco Malfoy? In Muggle London? What could Hogwarts' biggest supporter of pure blood supremacy be doing wandering about mixing with mere Muggles?

With barely any thought to the lecture class she would be missing, Hermione ducked behind a gaggle of unruly teenagers and kept an eye on Malfoy's back as he worked his way through the crowd. He dressed simply in slacks and a pale grey Oxford shirt, and his blonde hair fell just past the collar. He had abandoned the slicked back look of years past, and though she couldn't see his face she imagined this was a significant improvement. She smiled as she thought of his chagrin at having to don Muggle clothing for any errand, but started when she imagined just what sorts of errands the Malfoy family had been known to run. Handing out Dark artifacts, torturing innocents… Supporters of the Dark Lord, the Malfoy family could be up to no good in Muggle London, and Hermione intended to find out exactly what the slender blonde boy was doing.

Cursing her inability to use her wand to perform even a simple Concealment charm, she was forced to stay several people away from Malfoy to avoid being seen. She shuddered to think what he might do if he discovered her following him, and wrapped her fingers around her wand. _Just in case_, she told herself. Better to be in front of the Wizengamot for use of underage magic than trying to explain to Muggle police any horrid curse Malfoy might aim at her. She was grateful that at least her appearance was relatively nondescript. Malfoy had only ever seen her in the billowing black robes and pointed hats all Hogwarts students wore, he might not look twice at the young girl in a plain lavender top, shorts, and trainers boarding the bus several paces behind him. As he made his way to the back, she chose a seat near the front and sat quickly, trying to formulate a plan. In this spot she could watch for when he got off, but how to follow him without being noticed? Surely if they were the only two people who left at a stop he would look at her? She briefly considered letting her hair down to hide behind the long brown curls, but thought better of it. Malfoy had commented more than once on her "bushy" hair, and while the description was unfair now after her mastery of styling products, it could still trigger recognition. After all, she had spotted him through hair color alone.

Comforting herself that women who wore their brown hair in careless buns were a dime a dozen in London, she tried to plan. Approaching Malfoy would be foolish, it was hardly as though their relationship was cordial enough to explain her wanting to have a civil chat between acquaintances. He had tormented her throughout their years at school, and at the end of last term, she and her friends had been partially responsible for his father ending up in Azkaban. No, Malfoy would be unlikely to do anything but hex her if she were to try to speak with him. Indeed, if he caught sight of her she wouldn't put it past him to Stun her in the middle of London just to get her out of the way. He could be carrying out a mission for Voldemort, and he would hardly want a spying Muggleborn getting a look at his activities. Hermione considered sending for back up, but dismissed the idea as soon as it came to her. Who would care that Draco Malfoy was traveling around London dressed as a Muggle? So was she. Any adult she knew would write off her concern as a childish grudge, and she knew they all had bigger things to worry about. Ever since Voldemort's appearance at the Ministry of Magic, the wizarding world teetered on the brink of full scale war. While the Death Eaters had contented themselves mainly with scattered incidences of Muggle torture, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made a serious bid for power.

At any rate, there was no good way to send a message even if someone would have believed her. Surely someone would notice if she sent a Patronus, and no one would be checking their DA coins over the summer holiday. She was alone. Heart pounding, Hermione glanced surreptitiously about the bus. What if Draco wasn't the only Death Eater around? Though she didn't recognize anyone, it hardly mattered. She wasn't all that familiar with the Death Eater rosters, and any manner of magical concealment might let the Death Eaters sneak by without her ever knowing. If their plan was to torture and kill more Muggles, how would she stop them? A single, underage witch against the ruthless and powerful witches and wizards Voldemort had at his beck and call. _She would stand no chance._ Hermione swallowed nervously, her mouth suddenly dry. Perhaps Malfoy really did have an innocent errand in Muggle London. Then, perhaps she was also the Queen of France. Malfoy never did anything innocently.

The bus shuddered to a stop and Hermione tried to appear as small and nondescript as possible as she watched Malfoy exit out of the corner of her eye. He stared straight ahead, giving no appearance of noticing anything around him. Once he had stepped off, Hermione jumped to her feet. "Oops, this is mine," she trilled nervously, nearly tripping over her own feet as she rushed to follow Malfoy. No one paid her any attention as she dropped her fare in the driver's hand, and within seconds she was left standing on the pavement as the bus groaned to life and pulled back into traffic.

Trouble was, she was standing alone. Malfoy was nowhere in sight, having neither walked towards the park to her left nor the rather seedy looking flats on her right. She supposed he might have ducked into one of them, but it seemed nearly impossible that he could have moved so quickly. Had it really taken her so long to pay her fare? Hermione chewed her lip anxiously, and then headed to her right. She had lost him, and the chance to get a glimpse of whatever mischief he was up to. She just hoped it was relatively harmless mischief, and that there was no innocent family somewhere, begging for help that would never come.

Head down, Hermione kicked at a few pebbles as she walked along. She had missed her History class and spoiled her perfect attendance record, all for nothing. She reached for the cell phone her parents had given her, but thought better of it. They would want to know why she was so far from school, and she had never been a very good liar. Somehow, she didn't think they would approve of her stalking her classmates, no matter their reputations.

Hearing a step behind her, Hermione turned. Before she could process what was happening, the unmistakable feel of a wand prodded the small of her back and a strong hand clamped down on her arm as she groped desperately for the wand in her bag. A deep voice said softly in her ear, "Going somewhere, Granger?"


	2. Chapter 2

Draco sighed in exasperation. He had a limited amount of time in which to complete his errand before his absence from the Manor was noticed, and he was being followed by _Hermione Granger._ Of all the people in his miserable life to be noticed by, the Fates chose this one. Even Potter would have been preferable, because he would have had to sense to go running to Dumbledore at the first sign of trouble. Not Granger. No, she was tracking him with all the subtlety of a five year old, no doubt out of some misplaced sense of duty or bravery, neither motive something Draco had time for now.

Watching her try to shrink into her seat, Draco pondered his next move. He could simply elude her once off the bus and hope she would let the matter slide. However, five years of experience with Granger and her stupid Gryffindor pals had taught him better. As soon as she realized she'd lost his trail, she'd be off telling Potter how she had spotted him of all people in Muggle London, and didn't that seem a bit odd? Seeing as how Potter had had it in for him since first year, he knew Potter would indeed find it odd. He did not need any further Ministry inquiry into his activities, nor did he want Potter and his bumbling pals attempting to extract a little justice of their own. Draco sincerely doubted that putting Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban was going to assuage Potter's need to make Draco's life a living hell, especially after Draco's aunt had killed Potter's godfather. Bit unfair to blame Draco for that though, seeing as how his aunt was hardly the model of familial love to him either.

Pushing the thoughts of his family aside, Draco considered the problem at hand. Letting Granger lose him without first scaring into keeping her know-it-all gob shut would not be smart. He wasn't about to cause her any real harm though, there was trouble enough without a price on his head. It was unfortunate Granger had such a pristine little reputation, because it would come in rather handy to have some dirt on her now. Blackmail was his preferred method of dealing with situations such as this. People were terrified of losing their image, and everyone knew Draco had no image to lose. The son of an imprisoned Death Eater , he held no sway with either the Dark Lord or the Ministry. In fact, if it wasn't for his father's buggering up the incident at the Ministry, Draco would not be in this predicament now.

Reaching a decision, Draco rose to leave the bus. This area of town was perfect for a little intimidation, no one was going to look twice at a couple of teens…embracing. Watching Granger in his peripheral vision as she fidgeted in her seat, he laughed to himself. Gryffindor's princess was in for a shock if she thought she could get away with tailing him. Draco had been a student of secrecy and discretion his whole life. Granger's naivety would not serve her well in the confrontation to come, nor in the war that was almost certainly coming.

Draco trusted that Granger would take a moment or two to pay the driver, and ducked into an alley. Hiding behind a large rubbish bin, he listened for her step on the pavement. As the bus pulled away, he heard several cautious footsteps and then a pause. Good. She had not seen him hiding, and had to be taking the time to consider her next move. Fool. She ought to have just confronted him on the bus if she was so concerned about his business, he could hardly have cursed her in front of all those Muggles. Draco heard the footsteps start again, fading in the distance. Coming from around the rubbish bin, Draco watched her make her way slowly down the sidewalk. He could almost pity her disappointment at having come so close to catching him out in some atrocious act, but he knew better than to pity Hermione Granger. She could more than take care of herself.

He caught up to her silently, and she turned as though startled. Draco shoved his wand into the small of her back and held her left arm tightly. To an observer it might have looked suspicious, but there were no observers. Night had begun to fall, and this was not an area of town where inhabitants took evening strolls. "Going somewhere, Granger?" Draco whispered in her ear, tightening his grip on her arm. He could hear her heart beating loudly, and her breathing was quick and shallow. "Don't panic now, dear, we're old friends, aren't we?"

"Dear, now, is it, Malfoy?" Hermione gasped. "I had quite gotten used to Mudblood."

"Make any sudden moves and we might be forced to show the neighborhood how dirty your blood really is," Draco bluffed. "You're coming with me, Granger."

"Where? It's not as though you can Apparate!"

"As though I had forgotten, Granger. We are going to my flat, which is just up these steps."

"Your flat? What on earth do you need one for, haven't you got a mansion somewhere?

"Quite right, but I find it useful at times to have alternate… arrangements." Draco leered at her briefly before steering her up the steps and into the dingy corridor.

"You bring your pure blood bints to Muggle London? I can't imagine this flat gets much use."

"Imagine away, Granger. Plenty of ladies like things a little on the wild side. It's like slumming, you know."

Hermione fumed silently at that, and Draco took the opportunity to unlock his door and push her unceremoniously inside, keeping his wand aimed at her middle. "Hands up where I can see them, Granger. "

"What are you playing at, Malfoy? Been watching a few too many cops and robbers movies?"

"Er… excuse me?" Draco was momentarily confused, but decided she must be talking about some Muggle nonsense. "Never mind about that, hand out of your bag. _Empty _hand, Granger," he said as a calculating look passed over her face. She complied slowly, her eyes never leaving his wand. "Now, what am I to do with you? Sneaking around, practically stalking me… I think the Ministry might be interested to hear what their little golden girl has been up to over her holiday."

"It wasn't like that! You know perfectly well why I might want to follow you, Malfoy!"

"I do not. Care to enlighten me, Granger?"

"You… you… you're a Death Eater!" Granger sputtered nervously, "You might have been up to something illegal!"

"And you were going to stop me all by yourself? Getting a little big for our britches now, aren't we?"

"Well, someone had to! Don't think I don't know what you get up to with your Death Eater friends!"

"Once again, the things you claim to know about me and my business continue to be news to me. I don't know what I'm meant to have been doing, but I can assure you I'm not being included in any Death Eater parties at the present."

"But, you're a Malfoy!"

"Right, Granger, and being that my dear father is currently in Azkaban for having buggered up a crucial mission a few months ago, blowing the Dark Lord's cover in the process, I'm sure you can see how my invitations to tea with my 'friends,' as you term them, have been somewhat diminished. "

"Oh," she mouthed, looking surprised. He supposed the thought had not occurred to her that while failures were patted on the back for 'trying their best' in her world, failure in Draco's world was a near death sentence. His father was lucky to be in Azkaban, the way the Dark Lord's mood tended these past few months.

"At any rate, you certainly have no business in London!" Granger looked down her nose at him imperiously. "I'm not sure I believe your story about using this place for all your assignations. Somehow, I can't see Parkinson being moved to romance by orange shag carpeting and stained wallpaper."

"Pansy's preferences for anything "shag," aside, I'm honored that you consider me monogamous, Granger. The world is full of pure blooded girls, and there's only one of me. Can't disappoint them by sticking to one broad."

"You're a pig. You truly bring girls here?" She looked about the place with disgust marring her features. Draco frowned. It wasn't that bad, and though it wasn't for the purpose she believed it was, it wouldn't do if all females shared her distaste for the furnishings. "I mean, _Merlin_, Malfoy. Has this place ever seen a vacuum?"

"A what?" Draco couldn't believe he was standing here with Granger of all people, discussing home décor. He was doing a piss poor job of intimidating her. Now she just looked amused.

"You know, a vacuum? It sucks up dirt and such off the carpet? Never mind, you wouldn't know. Muggle thing." Her face brightened. "Oh, Harry and Ron will have a laugh when I tell them you use a Muggle flat for a shag hideout!"

"They will _not_, because you won't tell them!"

"What's to stop me? I don't think Parkinson will be too thrilled if I inform her, and as I'm sure you want to keep all your naughty bits attached, it seems I have the upper hand here." Draco had never seen a female this ecstatic about learning a new bit of gossip, possibly because if he wasn't shagging one, he avoided them at all costs. If Granger was any indication, he had been doing himself a favor.

"Granger, tell Pansy about this and I'll make your life hell."

"You already do, so I don't see what's to change. Parkinson could stand to be knocked down off her pedestal a bit, I think." She smiled happily, eyes alight with mischief. It would have been adorable, if it wasn't Granger. She had gotten rather better looking with the years, Draco mused. This thought led to another, and Draco smiled deviously. Stepping towards the girl in his living room, he raised a hand to her shoulder. She stiffened as he approached her, eyeing his wand nervously.

Draco pushed the messenger bag off her shoulder onto the floor. Switching his wand into his left hand, he brushed a wayward curl away from Granger's face. "You know, you're not that bad-looking, Granger."

"That what you tell all the ladies, Malfoy? No wonder you can only get slags like Parkinson." She swallowed nervously, but didn't move. He supposed her bravery did not extend to being alone and wandless with the son of a Death Eater, which suited his purposes fine. Granger took a breath, probably to continue insulting him, but Draco had heard enough. Cradling her head in his hand, he pressed his lips to hers. She was completely still, though her mouth was soft and warm. Wrapping the arm that still held his wand loosely about her waist; he drew her closer to him. He coaxed her lips often with his tongue, and to his surprise, she allowed it. She met his tongue with hers tentatively, as though trying the experience out. She tasted sweet and faintly of mint. Draco bit gently on her lower lip, then ran his tongue over the place he had bitten. She moaned softly, and molded herself against him. Draco hooked his finger under the band securing her curls, and pulled them loose. He ran his fingers down her spine, pressing his hand between her shoulder blades. Pulling her hair gently, he deepened the kiss. Her arms moved to his neck, and he dropped his wand in order to grip her waist. She was soft and yielding in his arms and for a moment Draco forgot himself. It seemed Granger had forgotten herself as well, because after a moment she stilled in his arms.

Within an instant she had disentangled herself and was looking frantically for her hair band, decidedly not looking him in the eye. Draco smirked at her reaction, watching her restrain her unruly curls and then wrap her arms protectively about her middle. "You.. .you complete and utter pig!"

"Didn't think so a moment ago, did you sweetheart?" Draco was pleased to see a flush spread over her cheeks and down her throat, disappearing below the lavender shirt she wore. Though at another time Draco might have tried to see just how far that flush would spread, he had more pressing matters at hand. "See, I don't think Potter or Weasel would be too pleased if they heard about how you kissed me after stalking me all evening, and then begged me to take you to bed."

"But that's not what happened!" Granger squeaked, hands on her hips.

"Hardly matters, does it? As I'm sure you are aware, memories can be modified. They can also been taken from those who experienced them and shown to anyone with a Pensieve. If you so much as mention seeing me tonight to anyone, I can assure you that both Potter and Weasel will be receiving owls containing my memories of you practically attacking me and then begging me to shag you senseless."

"You wouldn't." Her voice wavered, and Draco thought for a moment that he saw tears in her eyes. But she straightened, and he was convinced it was a trick of the light. "They wouldn't believe you."

"You think Weasel would still want you after seeing the memories I could show him? I think he might be more inclined to believe the proof rather than the protestations of a slut like you, Granger. After all, didn't he quit speaking to you for months when he thought your cat killed his precious pet rat?"

"How do you know… oh never mind. Fine. I won't mention it. For the record, Malfoy, I hate you."

"I know. Now get out."

She grabbed her bag from the floor and pushed past him, slamming the door behind her. Draco sighed heavily, and collapsed onto the disgusting plaid couch that had come with the place. He hoped she wouldn't decide to risk everything and tell her friends she had seen him, or everything he had worked for would be destroyed. His particular brand of persuasion might have worked better than outright threats, but Draco felt guilty for some reason. She _wasn't _all that bad looking for a Mudblood, and the memory of her kiss stirred him uncomfortably. He told himself kissing her had been necessary in order to shut her up, but already he was having doubts. She was still Granger, after all. One kiss didn't change anything.

"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione braced herself for the conversation she was about to have with her parents. Class had ostensibly ended two hours ago and she was only now getting home. They were going to be furious with her for not calling them to say she would be late. She had been allowed a great deal of freedom this summer, and if she didn't appear suitably contrite she would probably lose it all. She cursed Malfoy in her head. He was ruining everything, as usual.

Pushing the door open and stepping lightly inside, Hermione dropped her messenger bag in the entryway and kicked off her sandals. She headed down the hall toward the voices in the kitchen, her stomach twisting itself in knots at the scolding she knew was coming. Taking a deep breath, she entered the kitchen.

"Hermione! Where have you been? I've been waiting and your Mum said you were due back ages ago!" A tanned and rather taller Harry Potter was peering at her excitedly over the tops of his black glasses. Hermione's mother sat across from him at the kitchen table giving her a look that reminded Hermione unpleasantly of Professor McGonagall.

"I, er… had to ask the professor about an essay, and then one of my classmates asked me a question and the time just got away from me. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course! Really, 'Mione so much has happened this summer and I couldn't wait to meet at the Burrow. I wanted your input on some things and it seemed better to visit than put it all in an owl."

Hermione gave Harry an appraising look. He had never arrived unannounced before and as far as she knew, he had been spending the summer with his aunt and uncle. Clearly, she had been left out of the loop. Harry was looking far too well fed to have been spending time with his relatives and she doubted anything that had happened to him there was really so pressing as to require her input. "Well, it's good to see you. What all has happened that it couldn't wait two weeks?"

Hermione's mother cleared her throat. "I was just about to head to bed. Early morning in the office tomorrow. Harry is welcome to stay in the guest bedroom tonight…and Hermione?

"Yes, Mum?"

"Please don't make staying out so late a habit. Your father and I were quite worried."

"I won't, Mum. I'm sorry."

"Right then. Good night, dear, good night, Harry." Hermione's mother kissed her forehead and then headed upstairs. Both Harry and Hermione sat silently until they hear her mother's footsteps reach the top of the stairs and a door close. Then both bega speaking at once.

"Harry, I don't know what you've been up to this summer but if Dumbledore finds out…."

"Hermione, I'm really sorry I've been lying to you but we just couldn't trust that our owls wouldn't be intercepted…"

"Who is we? What could possibly be so dangerous as to merit not telling me?"

"Well, Dumbledore and I have been working on something to defeat Voldemort and Ron's been helping a bit as well, when he can get away."

"So Dumbledore is involved. I suppose that's a relief. But Ron has been helping?" Hermione knew that Harry would hear what she didn't say. _He had chosen Ron instead of her?_

"Well, yes, but the only reason we didn't ask you is because we knew you were trying to keep up with your Muggle schooling and we didn't want you to feel pressured to choose!"

"So you chose for me! I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Harry!"

"We were concerned it might get dangerous and we didn't want anything to happen to you!"

"And it was better to let me sit at home and think you were both perfectly safe while you were off doing Merlin knows what with Dumbledore, and then you thought you would tell me when you'd got it all sorted out. ..Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't take care of myself, Harry Potter! I am not going to sit at home while the men go out and fight all the battles!" Hermione's hands shook angrily and she balled them into fists. She had never been excluded from the fight against Voldemort before, and it stung. She was just as capable as Harry and Ron. She was tired of the men in her life walking all over her, keeping secrets and expecting her to play along like a good little girl. Today was simply getting more and more ridiculous. She ought to have stayed in bed.

"I'm really sorry Hermione. I guess we should have told you."

"Too right you should have. Where is Ron, anyway?'

"At the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley wasn't all that pleased when she found out we hadn't been visiting Hogsmeade like we said we were. He's attempting to smooth things over." Harry looked sheepish. He had apparently not envisioned this visit going so poorly.

"Shocking she should be upset. Nothing like being lied to be people you thought you could trust."

"We didn't mean to lie! We just… omitted some truths."

"Clever, Harry," Hermione sniffed. She could not believe her best friends had been lying to her all summer. How many times had they fought evil together? She had been there at the Ministry with them! If it hadn't been for her Protean Charm, there would have been far fewer DA members to fight! She was not a porcelain doll to be protected and cosseted! She was one of the brightest witches in her class!

"Hermione, I'm really, really sorry. We should have told you. It just seemed like a good idea at the time."

Hermione snorted. If that wasn't the most constant theme in her life, she didn't know what was. "I suppose you might as well tell me what this is all about, if it's so important."

Harry looked relieved at being let off the hook. Hermione thought longingly of her wand in her bag. There were several hexes she had been aching to try, and not being able to use them was frustrating. Harry would need to watch his back when they returned to school. "You see, we think we figured out why Voldemort was able to come back to life. He split his soul, and hid the pieces. We've been looking for the pieces."

"He split his soul? How would he do something like that? What do you mean pieces?"

"Dumbledore explains it better, but basically when you commit murder, you split your soul. You can perform Dark Magic to secure the fragment elsewhere so even if you are killed in body, part of your soul lives on. I don't know how exactly it is done, but the fragment is called a Horcrux. We're pretty sure Voldemort has six."

"_Six?_ But then to get rid of Voldemort, you'd need to…"

"Destroy them all, yes. That's why he didn't die when he tried to kill me and the curse rebounded. He had six pieces of his soul hidden as back up."

"But how could you ever find them all? They could be anywhere! He could have disguised them as tin cans, or bones, or anything!"

"Well, Dumbledore thinks Voldemort wouldn't put his soul in just anything. He thinks too highly of himself to put his soul into anything less than the best. And luckily, we've already found two. "

"What? In the past two months?"

"No, no. Remember Voldemort's diary, the one that possessed Ginny?"

"Of course, but it was destroyed, how could you have gotten information from…" Her eyes lit up with understanding. "It was a Horcrux? I always wondered how a book could have been charmed to possess someone that way! It just didn't seem possible from anything I'd read."

"Dumbledore figures that was the first one he made. There's another he found too, an old ring that belonged to Voldemort's grandfather. Dumbledore destroyed it, but there was a curse on it…his hand's gone all black now, but he says its fine."

Hermione's head was reeling. She had always thought it would be a simple matter of finding the Dark Lord and killing him. She had never imagined it would be so difficult. "How do we know what the other Horcruxes will be though?"

"Dumbledore has some ideas. Ron and I have been helping him collect memories from people who knew Voldemort. Seems like he was trying to collect things that belonged to the Hogwarts founders. But we don't know where they could be hidden."

"They could be anywhere! Oh, if school was in session I could go to the library, I'm sure there would be books on magical protection, we might be able to find places by looking for evidence of such spells."

"Right. That's what Dumbledore said as well. The term starts up soon though, and we won't have as much time to look. So Ron and I are off duty until school starts back. Dumbledore reckoned we should take a break. Clear our brains, or something." Harry fell back in his chair. Her fury at being excluded somewhat lessened, she could see the subtle signs of exhaustion in his features. He held himself tense, as though constantly at the ready for battle, and his eyes seemed older. Moved suddenly to pity, she reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. "We'll figure it out, Harry. We always do."

"I hope so, 'Mione." Harry looked defeated. Shaken at seeing her friend looking so downcast, Hermione decided the best thing for them both was to get some sleep. Thing always looked better in the morning. She motioned for Harry to follow her, and set about getting him towels and such from the linen closet. She led him to the guest room, and as she turned to leave, he wrapped her in a strong embrace. "Thanks, Hermione."

She blushed, disentangling herself. "Night, Harry. Sleep well."

Padding down the hall to her own room, she reflected on the day's events. There had been too many secrets and surprises, all from the most unlikely sources. She quickly brushed her teeth and changed into her cotton night dress. As her fingers brushed the dress over her waist, she recalled with a pang the feel of Malfoy's fingers clutching her hips. She knew he had only been faking it to confuse and trap her into keeping quiet, but for a moment she could have believed he wanted her. The look in his eyes as she broke away from his kiss had been full of lust, but she supposed it could have easily been hatred. He must have been disgusted to kiss a Mudblood, even one who wasn't "bad-looking."

She would be silly to read anything more into the kiss than what it was: blackmail. It would be wrong to think of it as anything but the means to an end. This was Malfoy, after all. The boy who hated everything she stood for, who had tormented her for the past five years. The thought of his kiss shouldn't have her heart beating and her stomach filling with butterflies. He was a foul, evil boy who would likely grow into a killer like his father.

She knew she should tell her Harry about what she had seen today. Hermione doubted Malfoy was really using the flat as a shag hideout. It had probably just been a convenient excuse to get her out of his way. He might be planning any manner of sinister things. Something was off for certain, but without more information, Hermione couldn't say what. Harry would believe her about what had happened, no matter what memories Malfoy sent him. But then, Harry should really be focusing on finding these Horcruxes. Whatever Malfoy was up to would only distract him.

Hermione reached a decision. She would keep tabs on Malfoy by herself. Harry had bigger things to worry about, and Hermione was more than a match for the blonde boy. He had just surprised her earlier. She hadn't had time to plan. It had been the adrenaline of the chase, not the kiss, that had affected her. She was sure of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I know this chapter has a lot of things in it everyone already knows if they've read the books, but Hermione in this story doesn't know them and I didn't feel like I could just gloss over the information and have the story I've planned make sense. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Draco entered the ground of Malfoy Manor with trepidation. Granger's intrusion could easily ruin everything hehad worked hard to arrange in the past few months. Now that his father was in Azkaban and his family's cover had been broken, Draco was _persona non grata_ everywhere he went. In the past, many had suspected them of being Death Eaters, but now everyone was certain. The fear and respect Lucius Malfoy has worked so hard to cultivate at the Ministry had been obliterated by the failed mission to obtain the prophecy. If the Malfoy family name was mud to rest of the wizarding world, it was worse to the Death Eaters. Once favored members of Voldemort's inner circle, the Malfoys were now treated little better than blood traitors.

Walking slowly up the path that led to the Manor's back entrance, Draco considered his options. It might be better just to put his plan in motion now. Time was precious, and the longer he spent perfecting every aspect, the more dangerous it would be to put into play. Hearing a sharp crack behind him, Draco startled. His face fell. "Snape. How nice of you to drop by."

"It will be _Professor_ Snape to you in two weeks, Draco. You would do well to get back into the habit now."

Draco grabbed his left arm reflexively. "True, but we're all equals in the eyes of the Dark Lord, hmm?"

Snape's eyebrows rose at Draco's comment, but he appeared to wish this portion of their conversation over with. "The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you again at today's meeting. He wants to know your progress on the assignment."

Draco felt a cold tingle of fear settle in his spine and a wave of nausea passed over him. His last "talk" with the Dark Lord had been… unpleasant. His dreams now were filled with snakes and darkness, and torture that seemed would never end. "I have not made much progress, seeing as I can't do magic outside of school."

Snape's lip curled as he considered Draco for a moment. "You have not been given any instruction in the nature of Fidelius Charms, have you?"

"No. Bit advanced for our sort."

"Indeed. It is magic beyond the scope of many wizards, even those who are of age. A Fidelius Charm hides a person, or a location, from all attack. The object of the charm is concealed within the soul of a Secret Keeper. Only by revealing the Secret can the object be found by those who wish to harm it. You will recall, of course, the treachery of our own Wormtail?"

"I fail to see how this knowledge will be useful."

"Because a Fidelius Charm hides its object or location from all but those who have been given the secret, it also acts as a concealment of any magic performed within the location. While with advanced knowledge, a wizard may be able to tell that there was magical activity occurring in the vicinity of the protected location, they would be powerless to tell who performed the magic, or reach them in any way."

"The Manor is protected by such a charm?"

"It is now. With the Dark Lord currently using it as his headquarters, it would hardly do to have the Ministry showing up on social calls."

"Who is the Secret Keeper? I never have any problem getting in, and no one has told me. Wouldn't the Charm keep me out?"

"As the Malfoy heir, you are allowed onto the grounds by a much older magic. The place will always allow you in, even if there is a Fidelius cast to hide it from you. The identity of the Secret Keeper is, I think, none of your concern."

"So I can do magic at the Manor without the Ministry knowing?"

"Is that not what I have just told you? They may know that the Manor is here, may be watching it night and day, but unless the location were revealed to them by the Secret Keeper, they would be unable to enter the grounds or detect anything that occurs within them. "

"Useful to know. Might have been nice to have had that information two months ago when the Dark Lord gave me this task, though, Snape." Draco eyes the older man suspiciously. "Do you want me to fail?"

"I would not wish that on my worst enemy, Draco. I will admit, however, that I do not think the Dark Lord wishes you to succeed. I will try to help you, but there may be little I can do."

Draco suddenly found it rather difficult to breathe. He had known that the Dark Lord's task for him would be nearly impossible, but he had thought this was simply a test of his family's loyalty. The harder the test, the more the glory they would regain once the test was completed. Now, though, he forced to admit that he was hardly the best choice for the job. In fact, he was the one of the worst. He was doomed to fail, just as his father had done. And when he could not complete the task set before him, it would be the end of the Malfoy family. The Dark Lord had made that plain enough.

"Your advice is appreciated. I will work something out."

Snape gave Draco an odd glance, and then stalked away. He no doubt had other bad news to deliver before the meeting began. Watching Snape's receding form, Draco sighed. There had been pity in Snape's eyes, and Snape was not a man to feel compassion. The situation was much worse than he had ever imagined, and it made his plans for escape look childish. If Draco left, they would kill his father. If he stayed, either he would have to complete his task or the Dark Lord would kill them all. There was no winning in this, he knew. He was a dead man.

"We are at war."

The dining room of the Malfoy Manor had been adopted as an impromptu conference room upon the Dark Lord's arrival. The elaborate furnishings languished in shadow, as the snake the Dark Lord kept preferred the dark. He had enthroned himself at the head of the table, the snake draped over his lap like a lover. He stroked it idly as he spoke with his long, pale fingertips, his other hand resting lightly on the ornate mahogany table. "The contamination of our noble race continues as our kind dirty their blood with marriages to Muggles and treating Muggleborns as members of society. We must put these blood traitors and filth lovers back in their place. Too long, we have skulked in the shadows, building our strength, biding our time. We must infiltrate the Ministry, and it must happen quickly."

"But, my lord," simpered Draco's aunt Bellatrix, reaching towards the Dark Lord's hand, "You have counseled us with patience. We were to remain cautious, and not draw any attention. Have you changed your mind, my lord?"

The Dark Lord withdrew his hand from her grasp with impatience, and she shrank back as though kicked. "It is hardly your business to question my actions, Bella. Are you not happy with my leadership? Do you perhaps wish another, more competent Lord? Perhaps, young Master Malfoy would better suit your taste. We have all certainly observed the family's talent for taking charge."

"No, my lord, never my lord. I would never question your actions. I merely meant to clarify. I am your most faithful servant!"

"Many have claimed to be so, Bellatrix. Yet I have had little proof from any of you that you mean these empty words. The time has come for action. Will you all stand beside me, now that the time has come to stop your idle games and fight to take back what is ours by rights? You offer praises of me, and play lip service to the ideals of blood purity. Yet now that the time has come to rid our world of these usurpers, will you cower in the corners, advising patience?"

"No, my lord," voices around the table murmured.

"Prove it to me. I want the Ministry under our control, and I want it done swiftly. I do not want it said that the Dark Lord has grown weak in his absence."

"Never, my lord," the voices again filled the air, many sounding panicked.

"And Master Malfoy? The assignment of which we spoke, you are no doubt diligently applying yourself to completing it?"

"Er… yes, my lord. It is… progressing." Draco tried to keep the hesitation out of his voice, but found it in impossible.

"Good. We eagerly await the news that you have succeeded."

"Yes, my lord. I understand."

"Indeed, I hope you do, young Malfoy. I hope you have learned well the price of failure."

Draco was not by nature a reckless man. He had done more than a few things in his teenage years that were perhaps rash and ill thought out, but rarely anything that could get him into real trouble. He had a healthy sense of what he could get away with under the scope of his father's influence. Tormenting Potter and his pals had never held any danger. His father had been a school governor, and the Malfoy family had always been careful to line the pockets of many charitable causes. They had friends in high places, and Draco had been raised to believe himself above the law.

Draco realized now that his privileged existence had done him no favors. He had never bothered to make friends, as all were beneath him. He had those he might bully into keeping him company, but he did not choose them for their intelligence or their loyalty. He envied Potter briefly, but pushed the feeling aside. Potter had his Weasel to back him up when in danger, and he could grudgingly admit to himself that there were few witches brighter than Hermione Granger. Draco had no one to call upon in his hour of need.

He hoped that Granger would believe his story about the flat. He didn't need her snooping around to add to the list of his already heavy burdens. The last thing he wanted was for her to be caught up in this mess. She was naïve, he knew. She could get herself hurt, and he didn't need that on his conscience. He might have bullied her a bit in school, but he never wished her real harm. She had just made herself such a tempting target. Bushy haired, know-it-all Mudblood. He had to tease her, or lose his image. He thought of the softness of her lips on his, and shuddered.

He considered his Aunt Bella's lessons in Occlumency gratefully. Had the Dark Lord been able to read Draco's mind tonight, he would have seen many things to cause him alarm. Not least of which would have been the memory of Hermione's kiss.

A/N: Please tell me what you think so far! Reviews are like sunshine/ on a cloudy day…


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